The Beast
by AnImaginary Mann
Summary: A story about corrupted innocence and the human monsters that surround us all.
1. A Coveted Angel

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

**AN: This is a very disturbing story told in 6 little chapters. It may contain triggers to some of you. It deals with very, very sensitive matters. Please understand that this is an exercise in creative writing – I'm as disgusted by this as you all will inevitably be. Remember that some monsters are human.**

**Read at your own discretion.**

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It's wrong. Oh, so wrong... This devastating need to dominate his body, posses his soul, conquer his heart. It's his purity; you know… those gullible green eyes, so trusting in the rightness and fairness of the world. I want to hold him into the safety of my embrace, protect him from the ugly truths that he still ignores.

When he holds my hand I feel an indescribable array of emotions: some good, some bad. It's like an explosion that brings me to life – my lifeline the warmth of his soft skin against mine. There is no malice or second intentions: it's just another thing he does because he is supposed to, because he was told it is safe. It isn't safe, not with me. Never with me…

I hate myself – it isn't normal to feel this way. Normal guys like titties, dream about pussies, fuck girls… but not me. No, I had to be cursed with this disgusting need, plagued by this unfathomable lust for all I shouldn't desire. When I burn for him, I yell at a God I don't even believe in because I need to know why I'm built like this.

When the fire burns too high, I lock myself in the bathroom with his underwear. On that little scrap of fabric, I'm delighted to find his unique scent. With his smell on my nostrils, I allow my mind to wonder to that forbidden place where I daydream about how it would be... I enjoy "our" foreplay… I like the way he teases me by biting my nipples and then soothing the pain with his delicate tongue. Looking into my eyes, he reaches inside my pants and strokes my long, thick cock… It's hard, so hard… And it wants him, so very much… I can almost feel his mouth closing around the head, sucking lightly, driving me wild. It's impossible to hold back any longer. I weave my hands into his hair and hold his head in place… I fuck his mouth in earnest, all the way to his throat, making him gag with the power of my manhood. But I want to cum inside his white, pristine ass. Bending him over, I use very little lube. I want him to feel the pain of my possession. I want him to bleed as a virgin should bleed… I always come at this point, imagining his blood covering my dick.

The blessed orgasmic oblivion lasts only for a second, just until I realize who I have been fantasizing about. Crying is unavoidable and so is the cutting. I need to bleed like I made him bleed in my sick fantasy. I need the pain to stop me from pursuing my sick pleasure in earnest. Seeing my blood running out of my veins I can breathe easier, for I bleed for him… So that he can remain beautiful, untainted by the likes of me.

This weird little ritual of crime and punishment keeps the demons away for a while. For some time, I feel almost normal and see him almost as what I'm supposed to see him. It's when I ask out some bimbo and fuck her brains out. The thing is that fantasizing about him feels better than any pussy, that's why I always go back to him.

As time passes, the intervals between my bolts of perversion get shorter and shorter. Time doesn't dim my ardor, not even as he gets older and some of the things that first called to me fade away. My need is ferocious but I fight with all my might against this pull.

I move away to another state. I don't contact him. I try not to think of him. I start fucking guys. Red-headed, green eyed guys. In my mind, whenever I come, it's in his body – it's his name that passes my lips when my body peaks. For a while, it feels like heaven. But then, I hear his voice… and it isn't your voice. Then, I shove him out of my apartment and cry against my pillow, because it's you that I want, it's you that I need.

My would-be lovers keep getting younger, closer to your age… It's a pathetic, desperate attempt to replace you, to appease the beast that roars for your youthful body. They like it, I see it in their eyes. It's all wrong because you wouldn't have liked it… there would be tears in your eyes and blood on your body.

As my inner monster surfaces, I try to keep you safe by inflicting on others what long to do to you. I rape their body, break their souls, belittle their beings… As they plead for mercy, I grunt in satisfaction, pleased by the extent of their humiliation and my dominance. Oh, how I love their tears, how I relish in their blood.

Again, it seems to be enough for a while… Until it isn't anymore. As I say goodbye to the last shred of decency within my putrid self, I actually find the peace I have been lacking since the day you came into my life. As the man dies and the beast assumes control, I smile for the first time in years. It's time to go home.

My poor, unsuspecting mother was happy and thankful that I finally was going home. She works two jobs and is always tired, having too little time to educate my little brother in the ways of the world. Besides, he needs a male influence in his life, she says. He needs his older brother. He needs me.

Sitting on the bench, watching him play with the other kids, I eagerly anticipate all that will occur after we leave the playground. Mom will be out, all night long – her first date in ages. We won't be disturbed. Just imagining the filthy things I will inflict on his body make my dick weep in anticipation. The waiting is over, now it's time to make my dreams come true.


	2. A Lost Angel

**Disclaimer: **Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.

**AN: **Thank you for your reviews.

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"_The sacrifice of your innocence was such a beautiful tribute to pay. My entire being still thrums with the knowledge of your flesh. Every cry was a moment of perfection forever frozen in my memory. Licking your tears while I invaded your body is the sensation that lulls me to sleep leading me to the realm of dreams where we are never apart. In my dreams we do everything together, from the most innocent act to the naughtiest one. We are everything to each other and every time I'm done making use of you... You have tears in your eyes and you thank me. There is a slight hesitation in your voice, an unspoken request for a re-enactment of our moment of bliss. Your body still can't produce the evidence of your enjoyment but it is all there in your needy, pleading eyes. Yes, in my dreams you understand the rightness of what we have shared, the gift I bestowed on you._

_But then I wake up. It isn't your sweet face that greets me each morning, but the sour face of my cellmate who can't appreciate the poetry of my feelings for you. He believes that he is punishing me when they push into my body, slacking their lust in my ass. They don't know my secret. They don't know that I close my eyes and pretend that you are the one fucking me... possessing me like I did you... making me bleed for you as you bled for me... They don't know that they gift me with the ultimate fantasy._

_I miss you, so much. I haven't seen you since the trial. You were magnificent dressed in a suit, telling those men all about us... So unashamed, so proud... I wanted you right then, did you know that?"_

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_**Edward, age 12**_

As hard as I try to, I don't understand. The things he did to me... it hurt. Didn't he know that? Didn't he care? I loved my brother, I still do, but what he did isn't right. Mom told me. The doctors told me too. The police officers threw up. Were they grossed out by me? There are so much questions, so little answers.

Mom cries all the time. She hugs me and kisses me, cooks my favourite meals and buys me toys... a lot of toys. But she doesn't look at me right, not like she used to. She keeps saying it wasn't my fault. I know that – nobody asks to be punished, right? That's what happened, right?

I go to the doctors and do as I'm told. I talk to the lawyers and say what they want me to say. I do everything I'm asked but still people look at me weird. It's like I'm not good enough anymore. So, I try harder and harder to please. Nothing changes, nothing seems to go back to the way it was before.

Doubt creeps into my mind. Did I deserve it? Did Jasper see something in me that others are only seeing now? He always was pretty smart... Maybe people will realize that I'm bad and will do to me what Jasper did. Fear grows within my chest. I don't want to leave the house, it isn't safe anymore. I cling to walls. I must protect my backside, always. I don't sleep because they may come then and I would be defenceless. I barely eat, I don't want shit coming out of my ass – it brings back memories I'd rather forget. But my memory is fine. I remember all the time...

Mom brings a new doctor around. She is nice. She understands. She helps.

We move to another house, another city. People don't look at me strange. Mom seems happier – she almost never cries anymore. She doesn't look at me right but it isn't as bad as before. Sometimes, I even play with the kids outside – only the smaller ones and only if they are girls.

One day, everything changes. Mom brings a man home. He seems nice. He doesn't pay attention to me, but that's fine. I ignore him, he ignores me. He starts coming around more and more, until one day mom says he is moving in. I'm scared but I try not to show it. I want mom to be happy.

The man starts to ask me to do stuff for him – grab a bear, clean the floor, light a cigarette... I don't mind much – he still ignores me most of the time. One day I burn the couch while lighting his joint. He yells at me and says the one thing that I don't want to hear: he says that my brother had it right – I'm a bad kid who deserves to be punished.

I run to my bedroom and lock my door. I'm scared. But then he knocks and says he is sorry. I believe him and let him in. He hugs me. I missed being hugged by a man. I don't know why. I never met my dad, the only other man who hugged me was Jasper. Did that mean I missed Jasper's hugs?

The man runs his fingers through my hair and kisses my cheek... then my lips. It feels nice, so I let him. He says that what Jasper did was wrong... that it should be pleasurable for all the participants. His hands run down my chest and, suddenly, I'm out of breath. I don't want him to touch me there. But he is being nice and I'm afraid he will yell again. He puts his mouth on my private parts... unlike Jasper who bit me, he licks it... It feels good.

He promises I will like it. I don't think I will, but he is being nice... and so far it really felt good. I'm on my hands and knees, surprisingly enjoying the same act that once brought me so much pain. It's all good, until my mom enters the room and all I can see in her eyes is revulsion.


	3. An Angry Angel

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

**AN: **I can't believe I forgot to thank the person who made this story possible: **MinaBR**. She betaed this story to the best of her abilities - English isn't her native language either. But she is more than a beta - she guided me, made me change my mind and make this lighter. The format was her idea too... how do you like it? Believe it or not, you are getting the vanilla version of "The Beast". Thank you my friend - for your time, honesty and dedication. Oh, and the beautiful banner too.

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"_I heard about you doing our stepfather. How could you? After all that we've shared? Your body is my temple, making love should be like a prayer... Like what we had. I shouldn't blame you, not really. You lack guidance, the strong hand of a man teaching you right and wrong. I should be there with you, but these fucking hypocrites locked me away. Now, I have to stand here while fucking predators defile your beautiful body... I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you, my love. Believe me, I wanted to. Did he make you bleed? Silly question. Of course he didn't make you bleed: you were no longer a virgin. Your blood is mine!_

_I wish you would visit me, then I could wash away the memory of his touch, I could make you mine again. Would you like that my love? Would you like to bend over for me? Would you like me to bend over for you? I'm thinking that maybe not... From what I've heard you're a faggot. Just as well, I love the thought of always being the dominant. These past years I've found out that I don't really like to be the woman._

_My love, I don't blame you. I know how it's like to be alone out there and need a big man to take care of you. I forgive you, my love – just don't let other men fuck you and come to me. It's been so long... I don't think I'll be able to fuck you but, if we are creative, I think you can suck on my cock._

_Do you have pubs? If you have them, please shave them. I like you smooth and soft. Maybe you could take a picture of yourself – it would be such a comfort to me. Oh, I want to suck you off, I never got to taste your cum. Please, come..."_

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_**Edward, age 17**_

"You fucking faggot. I'm gonna kill you."

The freak had the audacity to touch me. Nobody fucking touches me. That's the rule. Everybody knows that. If that wasn't enough, he said he would bottom for me. Like I would stick my dick up his shithole. So, I punch him with all my might. I punch him until I hear his nose breaking and his face is all covered in blood. I don't care. I keep going. It takes four guards to take me away from my prey. Yes, I've grown strong. Nobody messes with me. Not anymore.

"Edward would you care to explain why you almost killed that other kid?"

I hate talking to the counselor. He always smiles. Why is he so fucking happy all the fucking time?

"Fuck you."

"Although original, your response doesn't answer my question."

"You wanna know why I screwed him up? Because I didn't want to screw him."

"Edward we have talked about this. It's Damien's right to choose his own sexuality."

"Fuck that. This place is bursting with faggots because you don't let any pussies in. Give these fruits a good and old pussy and they would all get over their gayness."

"Is that how it worked for you?"

"Fuck you."

And I jump the second guy on the same day. I don't care. I'm already in hell, who cares what happens next? I fuck him up really nice. I don't think anyone will be able to right his face ever again. Serves him right for insinuating that I'm a homo.

I'm barred from receiving visits for a month, that's my punishment. Fuck that, mom hasn't come around in months. Like I need to see the whinny face of that stupid bitch... and she never brings anything good... no cigs, no pot... just cake – the plain kind. Fuck that. And fuck the I'm sorry's too, I don't care what she thinks. I chose this, this is my fucking life.

Soon, it's night again and the moaning starts. They are fucking each other, the fags... Some of them are unwilling, I know... everybody knows, but nobody gives a shit. I protect myself, I stay awake all night long. When I need to, I sleep during the day. I have a fucking arsenal underneath my pillow – how my shit never got confiscated is a testament to these guys ineptitude.

Some have tried to fuck me. They are dead now. I've grown up. I'm tall. I'm strong. Nobody messes with me... Besides, they all remember how I sliced open the teacher who asked me to stay late. The scum bag didn't even had to say anything, I saw it all in his eyes. For the first time I stood up for myself. The court took pity on me, after all I'm a victim. Fucking fools, I'm no victim – I'm master of my own destiny.

There are some girls who sneak into this place... Real sluts if you ask me. Who would want to bend over to the worst guys in town? Whores, that's what they are and they are getting nowhere near my dick. I don't need or want to be contaminated by their diseases. Once, one called me a fag... I draw a path through her tits with my knife. That will teach her, stupid cunt.

The thing is that even though I hate the fags and the bitches, I'm a fucking teenager and my fucking hormones don't care about the fact that there are no decent pussies to be had. In the end, the decision is taken out of my hands, because I fell asleep. In the middle of the night. I wake up to the marvellous feeling of having my dick blown by a pro. It fells fucking good and all I want is to cum – I don't care that the mouth sucking me belongs to a dude.

After it's done, I get up to teach the fag a lesson but he begs for my protection. He says he will do anything if I don't let the other guys touch him. And just like that I'm sold to the idea of possessing this guy and doing with him all the things my body longs to do.


	4. A Broken Angel

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

**AN: **Thanks to MinaBR for betaing and for the banner.

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"_Did you know that mom visits me? She refuses to talk about you, though. However, news travel fast. I know you are in Juvenile Hall_. _I know all about how big and strong you've grown – I'm so proud of you. To think that my little prince is capable of inspiring so much fear... It turns me on... big time. How big is your cock now? You know what I said about your pubs? Don't shave them... I think I will like to see you as a man. You know, it used to scare me, how your age would affect our relationship... if I could love you as a man. I'm glad to say that nothing has changed. _

_I saw your photo on the newspaper. I have an entire album dedicated to you. Of course it would be easier if you sent me some pictures, but I manage. From what I could see, you turned into a really big man. I like that. I think our love play could benefit from that. Imagine you and me struggling for dominance... Never knowing who would be on top until the last second... I keep picturing you winning the fight and taking me forcefully. Oh, you are so rough... And I beg, I beg you to make me bleed..._

_A doubt keeps plaguing me though... Have you given yourself to another? Please say you didn't! I couldn't bear the pain of knowing that another man gets to fuck you... But do you take another? No, better not knowing because even though I understand the necessity of emptying your balls I can't live with the knowledge that you cum inside another man's body. Do you know why? Because I crave your juices deep inside me. I want to become your whore as much as I want to make you my whore. Baby, I promise you that one day we will be together."_

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_**Edward, age 18**_

I get used to Michael. He is nice and does as I say. He never asks for a blow job and never tries to fuck me. Sometimes, I kiss him in the mouth because I know he digs that shit. The way I pound his ass, I figured I owed him something in return. We even sleep on the same bed. I know that's fucking gay but I like him close – it's easier to protect him and I also like to have him at hand.

He showers me with affection and it gets to me. All of a sudden, I don't feel like a tough guy anymore. I want to be comforted. I start to wonder if maybe I could build a better life for myself. I start to make an effort... in talking to the shrink, in talking with mom. It's difficult. I cry a lot. They make me think about things that I thought I was over... but I'm not. I feel trapped and I long for my former self... But Michael holds me. He dries my tears. He doesn't let the others know about my weakness. Our roles have been reversed: he is the one protecting me.

Mom says she doesn't hate me... she never did. She hates herself for allowing _that _to happen to me... Not once, but twice. She begs for my forgiveness. Not so long ago I would have pushed her away by acting like I didn't care. I do care, a lot. For a long time I thought that my own mother blamed me for ruining her life. How wrong I was... She is so sweet, so giving, so loving. I hug her for the first time in a really long time.

That night I talk to Michael, really talk to him. And he listens. He offers insight, sympathy and sometimes just the comfort of his shoulder. I kiss him... not because I think he would like it or for some sense of obligation/gratitude... It's a caress, a desire to discover the extent of his feelings... of my feelings. It feels different, beautiful, right. It doesn't progress to sex... it's pure and untainted.

Our relationship changes. Fucking isn't in the forefront of my mind. We are much more now. The power of innocent discovery is the force driving our actions. In the sordid Juvenile Hall something beautiful arises – love born out of too tainted souls. Happiness follows. We are self-sufficient in our union, omnipotent in our ignorance. He is my world and my heart – life is perfection.

However, hell is always lurking. The violence of our environment can't be ignored or wished away. We are attacked, beaten, raped... Our mangled bodies reach for each other, but even that last touch was denied. As I walk the thin line between life and death, I often wonder if I should bother to fight for my life, for I know in my guts that Michael has already departed.

I hear my mom crying. She is beating herself up again. I love her, I can't let her destroy herself with guilty. So I fight... Recovering is a long, hard process, but, for once, I face it with a stiff upper lip. For mom... For Michael, because he deserves better than being killed for loving a whinny bitch.

The media decides to paint me as a hero – a boy who endured so much and still found the fortitude to love. They paint my relationship with Michael with pastel tones... it's all so idolized, so unreal. I don't care, the descriptions make him justice even though they are inaccurate when it comes down to me.

A shit ton of fame whore lawyers offer themselves to handle my case. It's amazing what can be accomplished by a good lawyer and favorable press. All my past sins are swept under the rug. I'm free to go. Make a new beginning. A second chance… and it only took the tragic death of a truly good person to accomplish that.

I make a vow to honor _his _memory. I will be a good man.


	5. A Corrupted Angel

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

******AN:** It seems that I have some explanation to do. This story is not meant as a sexy piece, this is a story about the devastating effects of child abuse and the never ending cicle of violence and pain that it originates - I'm never, at any point exalting rape as a desirable thing. Shame on me for discussing a sensitive matter? Or shame on me for attempting to do it on an honest way? Or maybe you were triggered by the content of this fic and never bothered to actually read it? Or maybe you simply didn't understand? That's the thing about anonymous reviews: they can spill their venom and ignorance without fear of being confronted with logic and truth.

**Thanks to MinaBR for betaing this**

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"_YOU HAD A FUCKING BOYFRIEND. How could you forget about me that easily? Did I ever mean anything to you? WE WERE IN LOVE. You gave yourself to me... and then to him. You broke my heart and every day you stayed with him you broke it all over again. I taught you what being a man felt like... I gave you my seed and you gave me your blood... We are bound, you and I... How can you walk away from that? And for what? A piece of white trash that can never give you what I can?_

_Sometimes, you make me hate you... You share your body with other man, you belittle the beauty of our encounter by allowing him into a body that should be mine alone. How could you have deceived me for so much time? Did I mean that little to you? No, that isn't right. I remember your tears, your cries, your blood... Do you remember how I hugged and kissed you after I branded you as mine? That was because I loved you... But not anymore! The next time I fuck you, there will be no cuddling! I'm gonna rip your ass apart and make you scream in pain... You will be nothing but a broken doll... for me to play with as I see fit._

_Does the promise of normalcy mean so much to you? It isn't real, IT ISN'T FUCKING REAL. You don't fit in, you never will. You may go on playing the part of a rehabilitated man, but I know better. I know that the day will come when you'll realize that you are the same as me. That's right: my mark went deeper than your bruised skin. It reached into your psyche, altering who you were. We bounded in more ways than you are ready to acknowledge. When you see it, come to me."_

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_**Edward, age 25**_

I go to college, become an "A" student and meet a nice girl. Bella has that girl next door sort of charm and the undemanding personality that goes with it. We talk, a lot. We kiss, some. We don't have sex though. Being with her is good, but she feels more as a friend than a lover – my body simply doesn't respond to her. But I don't let her know it. I like having a girlfriend. It's useful; it helps to project the façade of normalcy that I've worked so hard to build.

College is barely finished when I propose. She eagerly accepts. My innocent, trusting Bella, so untouched by the uglier side of life. It's over and done with, soon I will be a married man. Then there will be only something like 40 years of pretending to be happy. I can do it. I'm committed to doing it.

The actual marriage came sooner than I would have wanted to. Suddenly, the wedding night is upon me – I'm expected to perform. She is a virgin, or so she says. I guess that will make it easier for me to somehow surviving through it. In the end, it isn't as awful as I feared – she jerks me for a while and I get hard. Cumming is a whole other matter. I have to think of Michael in order to orgasm, but that brings tears to my eyes. She thinks I'm so happy and moved by the experience that I couldn't control my response. I let her believe that, it's better than knowing the truth.

Mom gets sick. Cancer is eating her insides, but she is brave. I'm a wreck. Through it all, Bella becomes my rock. She nurses mom and helps with the expenses. She holds me when I cry and that's almost unbearable because that's what Michael used to do. It should have been him comforting me… I hate myself for having these thoughts; I hate Bella for being there.

Mom dies. I feel like I'm losing my mind. First Michael, the Mom… I hold on to Bella. I don't want to lose her. She is my friend, I like her, but I don't seek her out as a husband does a wife, not anymore. She is unhappy, I can see that. So, when she talks about having a baby, I comply. I buy pills that help me get an erection and think about Michael.

Time passes but the baby never comes. She starts talking about adoption. I say yes because I want to give her everything she wants… She deserves it after putting up with me for so long. She seems excited, happy. It's all that I need, my own feelings are irrelevant.

We get a child – a beautiful, sweet boy named Jacob. He is an easy child to love. My heart beats for him like it has never beaten for anyone else ever before. Not even for Michael. I'm enthralled by his every word, fascinated by his every word, swayed by his every mood. I feel like he is mine and soon I'm pushing Bella away from me and my son. I want him all to myself.

Work, friends, everything fades to the background. I exist only for Jacob. I bathe him, clothe him, feed him, play with him. He is my world and I'm his. We exist in this impenetrable bubble of happiness, so perfect that nothing seems capable of destroying. That's when the fantasies started.

I feel the urge to kiss his lips, the need to feel his naked body against mine. I'm freaked, ashamed, angry, despaired. I can't be like this. When did I become this? Am I like Jasper? I feel like my head is splinting in two. I don't want to be this man… but do I have any choice? Am I not doomed to perpetrate the circle of abuse? Statistics say I am…

I burn for him, but I fight it until the day when the urge became too strong, the desire too potent. I succumbed and surprisingly found peace in embracing my true self.


	6. Beasts

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

**Thanks to MinaBR for betaing, offering counsel and making a banner.**

**Thank you jaspersgirl21for your later review - you are truly a very mature human being. I'm sorry about your experience. I'm glad you saw that I'm not trying to defend child abuse - on the contrary. Being a survivor myself I know how sensitive we may get, I'm sorry for overreacting.**

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"_I heard that you have a child. A boy. What's his name? Is he beautiful? Does he excite your body and stimulates your mind? Do you feel alive just by looking at him? Does his touch inspires your fantasies? Do you dream of making love to him? Of being his man for now and forever? Did you fall in love with him?_

_So many questions… I wish you would provide me with the answers. All these years and you never came. I guess I'm finally ready to see us as something of the past, the same way you do. But it is hard, you know… I know you won't be able to resist him… You will inevitably fall for him – here is something quite irresistible about tainting innocence._

_Though the nature of our bound has changed, we are bounded, nevertheless. You've become me. How does it feel to walk in my shoes? Do you understand it now? The indescribable need and the heart wrenching longing for someone who is forbidden?_

_They are all hypocrites, you know… Who are they to determine who we can fall in love with and who we can't? Taking young boys as protégées is an ancient practice… They did it in Ancient Greece and everybody loves the Greeks for their enlightment. But when we do it, we are perverts… Fucking hypocrites!_

_Be careful, my love. If you don't watch your back you'll end up here, serving a sentence as long as mine. Trust me, you don't want to find out what they do to guys like us here. Proceed with caution, try not to hurt the boy too badly. _

_Would you be kind enough to share the details with me? You know it will be a long time before I get out of here… A long time before I can find another boy to love…"_

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_**Edward, age 30**_

I want to get caught. There is a part of me who truly mourns for Jacob. It's the same part that keeps repeating "what would your mom think if she could see you now?"… The same part that is sad for shaming the memory of Michael… I want to get caught but I don't want to stop. Maybe I want to stop, I just can't…

I get sloppy and one day Bella finds out. There is hell to pay. The trial is nothing short of a circus. Jacob looked so beautiful on the stand… My cock got hard when he cried… I hated myself for it, but couldn't control my reaction… my urges… I want to plead guilty, but my lawyer is convinced that he can win the case. He loses, but I don't care. I deserve to go to jail. I've ruined a life and probably created another monster… another Jasper, another me.

Bella never came to see me in prison. I don't blame her, but when she divorced me… It hurt. She is a vital part of the normal life I almost managed to have. With her gone, the illusion of my past few years crumbles and I'm forced to confront the truth about myself. Without rationalizations or self-serving excuses. Yes, I was a victim but I'm also a villain.

The worst part is that I don't think I can change. My nights are filled with fantasies about Jacob… about nameless, faceless little boys who I long to hurt. I'm sickened by my own mind, disgusted by my own body. Why does it happen? I need to know, to understand… I make the decision to read the letters Jasper has been sending me all these years.

There are a lot of them. He wrote hundreds of letters that for some reason I kept, even though I promised myself never to read them. Some I found among my mom's belongings, after she passed away. Some were directed to my home, the one I shared with Bella. I'm guessing that some got lost, but I'm pretty sure there are enough letters to help me figure out what I need to.

It takes me days, but I read them all. The conclusion I draw isn't one I like. I am like him. No, that isn't right. I am him. His thoughts and feelings are so like mine… It's scaring. The demon I spent most of my life hating isn't that far away… it lives in me. I think about killing myself, but I don't deserve the sweet relief of death.

I ask my lawyer to deliver a letter to Bella, to make sure that she reads it. It contains all the sordid details of my life, everything I went through. I beg her to get help for Jacob... I don't want him to become like me. He deserves a chance to be a good man.

Then, there is only one other thing to do. It is hard, but my sleezy lawyer worked his magic and got me to the place where I needed to be. It's a year before I'm transferred to his block, but eventually my patience pays off. He is sitting alone, basking in the sun… and he doesn't know that his life is about to end.

It's funny, how memory plays tricks on us. I remembered him as an overpowering presence… as a man in possession of a forbidding countenance… but he is neither. Jasper looks gaunt and old. I don't care – he holds the ultimate blame. His eyes are closed when I sink the knife in his heart… He opens them and stares at me… His whole face transforms… It's like he is happy to see me, but it only lasts for a second and then he is dead.

I plead guilty. The sum of my sentences adds up to fifty years. Fifty years is as good as a life sentence. I will never get out. My life is over. I should be sad, but I'm not. I want to stay incarcerated for the rest of my life. Prison is safe… There are no little boys to be hurt by me.

* * *

**AN: **Statistics say that around 30% of child abusers where abused as children.


End file.
